A Fair to Remember
by autumnmom
Summary: Before going to a Muggle fair, Mr. Weasley tells his family, Harry, and Hermione: "Don't attract attention to yourselves, do not use your wand for any reason, and lastly, don't let anyone know you're not a Muggle!" The group tries to abide by these simple rules, but things don't always go according to plan...
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE: This story was written in 2006 and was originally posted on a muggle fan fiction site. It takes place during the summer after HBP and consists of 12 chapters. This is more of a light-hearted tale with hints of drama. Apologies for the Americanisms; this is unBeta'd.**

**Chapter 01**

A Muggle fair had come to town, boasting of wonderful music, delicious food, and fun-for-the-whole-family rides and entertainment. A bit of a break was needed from recent tragic events, which had settled over the Burrow like a lead weight; everyone agreed that they should go.

Everyone but Harry Potter, that is.

Harry, who'd been staying with the Weasleys since two days before Bill Weasley's mid-July marriage to Fleur Delacour, had exploded over the suggestion. _Why weren't they out looking for Snape,_ he'd asked loudly. _That traitorous coward who murdered beloved Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, should be found,_ he felt. And what about the Horcruxes that needed to be destroyed?

While many people greatly mourned the passing of Albus Dumbledore, none were as deeply affected as Harry; he had witnessed the cold-blooded murder of his teacher, confidant, and friend by the man who was said to be trusted by Dumbledore - and Harry had been powerless to stop it.

Molly Weasley tried to comfort Harry as best as she could, suggesting it would be nice for Harry to experience a fair for his birthday, but the young man was having none of it. Harry stormed off into the Weasley's backyard and began plotting new ways of torturing Snape if he ever encountered the slime ball in a dark alley.

_But he'd kill me before I even knew he was there,_ Harry thought bitterly, as he tackled a garden gnome, spun it around, then tossed it over the bushes. Snape was quite skilled at Occlumency-something Harry had not yet mastered.

_He deliberately defied Dumbledore and stopped giving me lessons,_ Harry thought, his brows knit together angrily as he surveyed the yard for more gnomes. _Snape also opened my mind further so Voldemort could control me. Bastard._

While Harry continued to fume, everyone sat at the Weasley's kitchen table and watched him in silence, still reeling from his outburst. Hermione, who had been staying with the Weasleys since the end of June, stood up and declared that she would talk to Harry. She turned and began moving toward the back door, but Ginny's slender hand on her arm made her pause. Hermione glanced down at the seated girl; one look into Ginny's stricken eyes and Hermione understood that the redhead wanted some time alone with Harry.

Only Ron and Hermione noticed Ginny sigh resolutely as she stood and straightened her jumper; Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley had continued their conversation pertaining to the fair and did not notice Ginny leave. Ron reached under the table and squeezed Hermione's hand, giving her a small, lopsided grin. "Thanks," he whispered near her ear, his red locks falling into his eyes.

"What for?" Hermione murmured, slightly puzzled, reaching out, unthinkingly, to brush the stray hairs up and back.

Both froze; Hermione had never done anything so forward before. She quickly snatched her hand back and began drumming her fingers on the table, not quite meeting Ron's puzzled gaze. After a moment, Ron cleared his throat. "Um, thanks - for staying here, I mean. Oh, wait - that sounded stupid; I meant-"

Fred and George, who witnessed the awkward exchange, interrupted Ron with a laugh. "Oh, come on, you twit," Fred snickered. "You've done nothing but go on about her year after year. Just tell her and get it over with."

Ron turned bright red, all the way to his ear tips. Hermione looked from the twins to Ron, her pulse quickening; however, Ron shoved his chair away from the table and sprinted towards the upper floors.

This only caused George and Fred to laugh uproariously, garnering concerned glances from the other family members, including the newest one, Fleur. Bill Weasley's wife shook her shimmering blonde locks and rolled her sultry blue eyes, muttering something in French under her breath.

Hermione, feeling a little overwhelmed and slightly saddened by what had transpired, decided to join in on the conversation and try her best to answer Arthur Weasley's questions about Muggle fairs and and explain that cotton floss wasn't from an actual cotton plant...

Outside, Ginny approached Harry carefully. He had been in one of his rare moods and Ginny had learned-from living with six brothers-that boys sometimes got a little out-of-hand when upset. She smiled, fondly remembering the afternoon when, after growing weary of Fred and George's taunts, nine-year-old Ron had attempted to hex eight-year-old Ginny in their stead-because she was smaller, he admitted later.

However, Ron hadn't bargained on Ginny retaliating with a hex of her own, causing him to turn orange and sprout greenery from the top of his head. At that moment, Ginny's brothers realized that using magic against their little sister was not a wise idea. So Ginny decided to call Harry's name before coming up behind him.

Harry whipped around, saw who it was, and grunted, "What do you want?"

She shrugged off his rudeness and stepped forward. "I'm supposed to keep score; Charlie wants to know if you'll beat his record of tossing seventeen garden gnomes in ten minutes," she lied, thinking quickly. At this, Harry did smile, causing Ginny's insides to relax in relief. _Get him to calm down,_ she told herself, _then maybe he'll open up about other things..._

"I once saw a gnome that had been wearing bright pink pants," Ginny began, "I laughed too loudly; it scared several more out their hiding spots causing Fred and George to grow as giddy as, well... girls. They later told me they'd been in 'Gnome Heaven'."

Harry chuckled, kicking a rock into the bushes. Three gnomes squealed and ran this way and that-catching the attention of Crookshanks, who came speeding out of his hiding place to chase them.

They watched Crookshanks and the gnomes for several moments in silence. Ginny glanced sideways at Harry; he appeared to be lost in thought and not really looking at Hermione's cat. In that brief moment, Harry's eyes had turned from a light green to a deep, dark emerald.

It was such a surprise to see the sudden change that Ginny gasped, snapping Harry out of his reverie. "Ginny, what's wrong?" he asked with some concern.

"Oh, nothing," Ginny replied shakily. "I-I think I've just been bitten by a bug." She rubbed her arm and frowned, thinking that was the lamest excuse she'd ever heard.

But Harry shrugged, apparently buying it. "I'd like to squash _him_ like a bug too," he muttered under his breath, turning his gaze back to Crookshanks silly antics.

"Who? Hermione's cat?"

"No. _Snape_." There was a small amount of venom in Harry's voice, which made Ginny a bit uncomfortable, but she kept quiet. Her purpose was to get Harry talking and he - obviously - had just begun.

"Why?"

The onslaught of words caught Ginny off guard. _"Because he killed Dumbledore!"_ Harry nearly shouted, scaring nearly all the creatures in the Weasley's backyard. "And then he _ran!_ He _is_ a coward! If only I had been strong enough - then I would have given that bastard the punishment he deserves."

"Harry, what more could you have done? Killed Snape?" Ginny was slightly shocked. When Harry didn't readily reply, Ginny plundered ahead. "I-I mean, why don't you leave the hunt for Snape to the Ministry and the Aurors?" _I don't want to see you killed; it would kill me too,_ she added silently.

Harry looked at Ginny with a nearly deadened expression, causing Ginny's heart to break. "The Ministry has proven useless. They think I am a fool-blaming Snape for Dumbledore's death; they believe it was one of the Death Eaters that snuck in. Bloody idiots! None of them saw what I did-_none_!"

"Harry, _I_ don't doubt what you saw, but for your sake... _please_ let it go."

"How can you say that? Have you forgotten Professor Dumbledore so quickly?" Harry's tone had grown accusatory.

Ginny reeled back in surprise. "I never said that!"

"Then why are you discouraging me from looking for Snape? Did _they_," he jerked his head towards the house, "put you up to this?"

"No!" Ginny shot back. She had a strong urge to hex him; perhaps it would bring Harry to his senses.

Harry pressed on, oblivious to Ginny's rising temper. "You can tell everyone that I'm fine! I don't need you hovering over me-smothering me with false affection!

Without batting an eye, Ginny's wand was in her hand, pointed at Harry, and she shouted a Bat-Bogey Hex. "You pompous fool!" Ginny shrieked, as Harry fell over, covered in large brown bats. "Get a grip on yourself! Next time, I won't be so nice!" With an exasperated sigh, she turned on her heel and stomped back to the house, blasting stones with her wand along the way.

"You call this '_nice_'?" Harry shouted at her, trying to rid himself of the many bats flying about his head and face. "After I kill Voldemort, I'm going to kill Severus Snape-make no mistake!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Ron kicked a couple of trunks stacked next to the door as he entered his bedroom.

"Prats!" he muttered, thinking of his brothers. Why did they have to interfere and make him look ridiculous in front of Hermione?

Pigwidgeon zoomed happily around his cage, hooting noisily and annoying Ron further. "Quiet!" he snapped, smacking the wire cage with his hand. The tiny owl stopped his chatter immediately, clearly surprised.

Ron went to the single miniscule window on the far wall and looked out to see his best mate, Harry, standing next to his sister, Ginny. _They look cozy,_ he thought to himself. _If my bloody brothers hadn't opened their traps, it could have been Hermione and I out there._

He had been quite surprised at Hermione's spontaneous forwardness. Hermione prided herself on rules and certain things being a specific way; it had been shocking to see her display any sort of tenderness in public-and in front of his family no less!

Of course, only Fred and George had seen anything; the twins never allowed anything to escape their notice, but why weren't they standing by the back door with an Extendable Ear, listening to Harry and Ginny?

_Because he's Harry Potter,_ Ron thought miserably. _He's 'The Boy Who Lived'-and he's the bloke who gave them the thousand galleons to get their joke shop off the ground._

Immediately Ron admonished himself for thinking that way. Harry had always been good to him and didn't deserve such shabby thoughts. However, something nagged at him; it seemed Ron was destined to be in someone's shadow his whole life. It was no secret that Ron loved Harry like a brother, but Ron secretly dubbed himself 'The Boy Who Plays Second Fiddle'.

He wanted to ask Harry how to 'get the girl', but realized that sounded ridiculous. Ron had had a girlfriend a few months ago-Lavender Brown-but one could hardly call it a relationship; Lavender gone so far as to treat him like a baby-and wanted to do nothing but snog.

Ron chuckled a bit at this; who would complain about snogging? It wasn't that that had bothered him-it was the constant baby-talk and lack of intelligent conversation Lavender offered. Slowly he realized how much he'd missed Hermione, though he couldn't bring himself to say anything, for he was embroiled in a strange relationship with Lavender-and Hermione had made it clear she was angry with him.

It was during Albus Dumbledore's funeral that Ron realized Hermione had been waiting on him to make the first move, and Ron, being thick-as dear Hermione would say-didn't do so. Thinking back on it, Ron wished he'd not been such a stupid prat; he could have saved himself the trouble of getting involved with Lavender. He could have talked with Hermione, instead of growing jealous and making a fool of himself.

However, what was done was done; it was of no use to think about what could have been. Ron knew that if he were to erase the past, he'd have to show some effort-but not in front of his brothers!

Again, Ron glanced out the window; this time, Harry was lying on the ground, his head covered in large, flapping bats. Ron guffawed loudly, causing Pig to hoot gaily. What had his friend done to Ginny to receive the Bat-Bogey Hex?

The redhead wondered if Harry's midnight mutterings of murder, which had kept Ron awake for the last six nights, had something to do with Harry's odd behavior. Ron tried to ask Harry about it, but when faced with questions, Harry had refused to answer, changing the subject every time.

_This evening's outburst was only the tip of the iceberg,_ Ron thought wearily, striding over to his bedroom door, thoughts of helping Harry rid himself of Ginny's hex at the back of his mind. _Harry is determined to find Snape-regardless of the consequences._ Ron wondered what the entire story was behind the fateful night in the Astronomy Tower. There was something Harry had not told him, he was sure of that.

He yanked open the door and cried out in alarm; Hermione was standing inches away, her hand held aloft as though ready to knock on his door.

"Hello, Ron." Hermione smiled tentatively at the lanky redhead.

"Er, hi, Hermione." Ron suddenly felt warm; he crooked a finger into his collar and tugged.

There was an unmistakable look of concern in Hermione's brown eyes. "Is everything... all right?" Ron noticed she was wringing her hands together.

_She's nervous too,_ he thought. Instead, Ron nodded. "Sure. Just going out to help Harry, is all." When Hermione's brows nit together questioningly, he continued, "Ginny hexed him."

"Ginny hexed-? Ah." Hermione bit back a chuckle. "No doubt Harry's stubbornness and determination got the better of them."

Ron nodded, smiling slightly. Everyone knew Harry could be quite mulish, however, Ginny could never hold her temper well. "Why aren't you out there with Harry now?" he asked. "He could use a hand, from the look of him."

"I-I came to see how you were." When Ron didn't reply, she rushed on; "Your brothers love you, you know; teasing you is their way of showing it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "That's not teasing; they're bloody annoying," he replied bitterly. _The story of my life,_ he added silently.

Hermione frowned a bit, but responded in a more serious tone, "Well, sometimes people are clods when it involves the ones they love."

For a moment neither said anything as their gazes locked together. Was Hermione referring to more than just Fred and George? Suddenly embarrassed, for he didn't know how to respond, Ron merely nodded and mumbled an excuse for a hasty exit, moving around Hermione to make his way back down the narrow stairs.

Hermione stood stock-still, mortified to the roots of her hair. Once again she tried to approach him-and once more Ron ran away. Was Ron not interested in her? Had Hermione, the brightest witch of her age, read the youngest male Weasley wrong and was only annoying him with her fanciful notions of love?

_Impossible_ Hermione said to herself. _If I'm wrong then may I turn into a frog right now._ As she thought this, she held her breath and looked about as though waiting for something to strike her down. When nothing outlandish occurred, she sighed, straightened her shirt, then turned on her heel and strode purposefully down the creaky stairs. It was time to talk to Ginny.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 03**

Ginny fumed, pacing back and forth in the tiny room she shared with Hermione. She ranted about boys-Harry mostly-and how thick-headed and stubborn they were. Hermione murmured pityingly, knowing exactly how her friend felt.

Why are boys such bloody clods, each wanted to know when they had relayed their tales of the afternoon's disasters; when no plausible answer readily came, Ginny grumbled further about losing her temper and needing to restrain herself in the future.

It was then that Fred and George barged in, Extendable Ears in hand and each with their own advice: "Perhaps you should spend the remainder of the summer in your room." and "Give me your wand; I'll make sure you won't use it on anyone for the next few weeks.

Ginny and Hermione had shouted at them, incensed, each brandishing their wands and spouting off hexes. The twins Disapparated immediately, the girls' hexes bouncing off Ginny's bedroom wall.

Mrs. Weasley announced at dinner that the group would indeed be going to the fair after the meal, so she kept the fare light-sandwiches and butterbeer, much to Fleur's dismay. When she grumbled about the meal, Ginny told Fleur-in a falsely sweet tone-that she could go a few miles up the lane to the Muggle village and use her Veela charms to get dinner. Fleur huffed angrily, but bit into a roast beef sandwich.

Harry was stone-faced throughout most meal, refusing, at first, to touch anything Mrs. Weasley set in front of him. He formulated a plan: once everyone arrived at the fair, he'd sneak off-using his hidden Invisibility Cloak, of course-and begin the search for Snape. Harry was certain that the hook-nosed wizard would lead him straight to Voldemort.

_I'd be killing two birds with one stone,_ Harry thought to himself, recalling one of Uncle Vernon's favorite sayings. _Or, would two birds be killing me with one stone?_ He shook off this last thought; it would do him no good to doubt himself now. He took a few bites of his sandwich and washed it down with a swig of butterbeer; Harry knew he'd need something in him to quiet his rumbling stomach and keep him feeling energized-and able to ignore the gnawing in his chest that indicated he was quite unsure of what he was attempting to do.

When the plates cleared themselves, everyone rose and stretched happily, chatting noisily about the events that lay ahead of them. It made Mrs. Weasley smile, for recent tragic events had taken their toll on her family. She was extremely saddened by the loss of Albus Dumbledore, but Molly Weasley knew that the recently deceased Hogwarts Headmaster would want them to continue their lives as usual-taking extra precautions, of course. She had no doubt that Albus Dumbledore would have enjoyed going to a fair, had he still been alive.

So up the lane to the village the Weasleys (minus Percy, who'd decided to stay late at the Ministry to take care of 'high-priority matters'), Hermione and Harry went. As they drew closer, they could hear the faint sounds of music, happy cries of Muggles, and hawkers attempting to draw people in to play games or buy their wares. The group caught wisps of sweet dough scents floating on the breeze, and Fred and George began counting their money, hoping they had enough of the Muggle bills to buy their hearts desires.

Once the group topped the hill, they paused momentarily by a lone tree to take in the sights and sounds that lay below. Even Fleur was awestruck, "I have never zeen such a display! Ze lights are _gorgeous!_"

It was true; the spinning, whirling, and blinking multicolored lights on the rides, the games and food stalls, and on the fence surrounding the fair seemed to come straight from an item in the twins joke shop. Harry noted that the twins were taking in the scene before them, rubbing their hands gleefully, probably pondering how this fair would figure heavily into their next joke shop item.

"Amazing, those Muggles and their electric-aren't they?" Charlie breathed, a grin spreading across his features. "I wonder how they get the lights to _do_ that?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Arthur Weasley began speaking, taking this time to give the group a warning. "I think it's in our best interest if we stayed together, but realistically, I know that won't happen. So I offer three very important pieces of advice: don't attract attention to yourselves, do not use your wand for any reason, and, lastly, don't let anyone know you're not a Muggle-and that includes you," Mr. Weasley inclined his head towards Hermione, who bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"I think three hours is enough time for all of us to have some fun," Mrs. Weasley interjected, smiling at the group. "Why don't we meet back here at that time, by this tree, so we can go back to the Burrow together?" When all heads nodded in agreement, Molly shooed them on, linking her arm with her husband's as the couple began strolling down the hill in a leisurely fashion.

Everyone else, including the normally haughty Fleur, ran straight down, some tumbling and colliding with others in their haste, whooping and hollering excitedly, their cries mingling with the joyous shouts emanating from the fair.

Except Harry.

He held back, watching Mr. and Mrs. Weasley move towards the fair. When Harry felt certain they were far enough away, he pulled his Invisibility Cloak out from the backpack he carried, unfurled it, then threw it over himself. He thought to leave his pack behind, in the crook of the tree, but decided that if any of the Weasleys stumbled upon it, they'd alert the proper authorities and Harry would be discovered for certain.

He turned on his heel and started down the hill from which he came; he would find Snape and kill him as he killed Albus Dumbledore. _But, _a tiny voice at the back of his mind asked, _will your heart be in it?_ Murdering someone was not like discussing the weather, he knew. Harry sighed heavily and turned away, desperately trying to ignore his conscience.

"Harry!" A forceful feminine voice halted Harry in his tracks. Harry turned to see Hermione standing in the very spot he'd just vacated. She must have doubled back when he wasn't looking.

"I know you are there and can hear me, so please just listen," Hermione began hastily. "I know you want to find Snape, and honestly I don't blame you. But _please,_ Harry, just come to the fair with us tonight. I'll-I'll help you look for Snape tomorrow." Hermione added hurriedly, knowing she was taking a big risk by saying such a thing, but she wanted to know where Harry was at the moment.

It worked. "Are you serious?" Harry asked warily, whipping the cloak away from his head. To a Muggle, Harry would have looked quite spooky, but to Hermione, it was a relief to see that he wasn't too far away.

"How did you know I was going to sneak away?" Harry asked warily, his body tensed and ready to run.

"Does it matter, Harry?" Hermione replied, folding her arms together. When Harry grunted skeptically, Hermione sighed and added, "If you must know, I saw you slip your cloak in to your backpack before we left."

"Why didn't you say something then? Why not alert the Weasleys? Not very well done of you, Hermione."

Hermione scowled at him. "I had _hoped_ I was mistaken, but it seems I was wrong. Do you want to know why I've stopped you?"

"Besides the obvious?" Harry's reply bordered on sarcasm.

"Have you thought about those who care about you? Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, me... Ginny?" Hermione asked quietly. "Why would you risk your life because of Professor Snape? Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have appreciated saving you only to have you run off to be killed weeks later!"

"I don't know-and I don't bloody care anymore, Hermione!" Harry realized he sounded childish, but cared little; he knew Hermione was trying to stall him; Harry wanted nothing more than to move on at that moment; between Hermione and his conscience, he was beginning to have doubts.

"What's gotten into you, Harry? Why are you acting so... so-?" Hermione paused, searching for the right words.

"Insensitive? Rude? Devious? Like a clod? ... Shall I go on?" Harry interjected moodily.

Hermione stood her ground. "You certainly haven't been yourself as of late, and I'd like to know why! What else happened that night? Did someone hex you, causing you to turn into a vengeful old man bent on destroying everything in your path?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut. _She's right_, a little voice in the back of his mind told him. _Just look at yourself; you're becoming like the very man you're looking for-bitter, angry, and cruel._

Hermione's eyes widened as she witnessed the change in Harry. His scowl melted away and his face went from red to milky white. Hermione stepped forward, reaching out a hand in an attempt to grasp her friend should he suddenly lose consciousness.

Harry stood frozen in place, his head floating in midair. A myriad of emotions flooded him-anger, sadness, pain, relief, despair, hope and other feelings he didn't want to name-and suddenly he felt like crying.

Suddenly, he whipped the cloak away from his body and stuffed it into his bag. "I hope I don't regret doing this," he muttered, slinging the pack over his shoulder and brushing past Hermione to make his way down the hill.

"Harry," Hermione called tentatively, wringing her hands, "are you all right?" She worried she might have caused him to be angry with _her!_

Harry stopped in his tracks. "I'm... fine, Hermione; Reality seems to have caught up with me-and it was a bit unpleasant. Let's go to the fair before I change my mind. ... Oh," he added as an afterthought, "I won't hold you to your promise, so you can quit worrying about that." He turned and trotted away, his bag thumping against him as he went.

Hermione didn't want to ruin the moment with more words, so she hurried along behind her friend. She was thankful that Fred and George had told her about Harry packing his cloak; the twins, ironically, wanted Harry to spend more time with their sister and less time looking for 'that greasy git' Snape.

"If anyone can talk Harry out of doing the wrong thing," Fred had told her, "it's you."

_I may have talked Harry out of doing anything foolish for the moment,_ Hermione thought to herself as she caught up with Harry, _but how long will take before Harry finds himself in trouble?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 04**

"Where shall we go next?" Fred asked George as the two looked around in wonder. There was so much to take in; from the mechanical rides, to the twinkling lights and neon signs, as well as the myriad of scents wafting from the row of stalls selling food, but nothing was more fun to watch then the Muggles themselves.

Fred and George had been around Muggles a few times, mostly for business, but this was likely the most the two had ever spent in a single place for a length of time near non-wizarding folks.

"Look at that bloke!" George pointed to a man in a bright orange and green Hawaiian-style shirt, brown shorts, and black socks-with sandals on his feet. "The git's as myopic as Trelawney!"

"Oh, how about that lady?" Fred nudged his twin and the two turned to see a pale, older woman who had what appeared to be a shower cap over her curler-filled hair, walking a large, white, wiry-haired dog that neither Fred nor George had ever seen. As she passed, Fred commented that the owner and canine seemed to resemble one another.

They continued to watch the strangely dressed Muggles as the two browsed the plethora of eateries. George couldn't resist the treat called 'Frozen Custard' and Fred decided to sample the 'Candy Floss'.

As each munched happily on their food, they spied their parents strolling along the lane. The two parties waved at one another, but didn't stop to talk; it seemed Mrs. Weasley was curious about something named 'Funnel Cake', and Mr. Weasley wanted to speak to the Muggle in charge of the Duck Pond game about the rubber creatures' primary function.

Turning towards the area designated for the mechanical rides, the lanky redheads, each dressed in a matching green jumper, discussed where to spend their Muggle money next.

The blinking lights on the Ferris Wheel had caught George's eye. "Hmm." his brow furrowed in concentration. "I wanted to try that wheel-thingy-and that other spinning contraption with the dangling seats looks all right, but both go in only one direction, which seems a bit boring."

"I agree," Fred supplied. "How can the Muggles stand it-going in circles like that? It's no wonder they haven't made any real progress in ages!"

For a moment, the two looked at one another, a grin passing their features. At last, they spoke in unison: "Muggle magic tricks!"

The twins didn't have to look far; in the last lane, far from the vendors and rides, lay 'Magician's Alley'; it was dark, quiet, and not as crowded as the other areas.

"Magician Alley?" snickered George. "How bloody original. Perhaps we shall give these primitive Muggles a run for their money?"

Fred snorted, rubbing his hands together gleefully-an evil grin spreading across his face. "Oh, yes-let's."

The tent they visited belonged to 'Hamlin the Great', a man who claimed to know the type of card one chose from a deck-all while Hamlin was blindfolded. If one could outwit Hamlin, the money in a shiny gold pot would be theirs.

Hamlin was a large, beefy man who dressed much like a genie-complete with a shiny silver turban and cape. He had a mustache that curled in at the tips and black eyes that shrewdly scanned the crowd. His assistant-a slender, dark-haired girl of about the twins' age, stood next to Hamlin dressed in a flowing, loose white shirt and colorful skirt. She smiled sweetly at the young men when they entered the tent.

After watching several Muggles lay down money to take their chance at winning, Fred and George realized the poor blokes were being scammed.

Hamlin's lovely assistant, who wasn't blindfolded, had one slim hand resting on Hamlin's shoulder at all times. Fred noticed that the brunette would ever-so-lightly tap out some sort of code on her employer when someone held up their card for all to see before placing it face-down on the table.

There was a collective groan when Hamlin called out the correct card for the sixth time in a row and his assistant collected the money that lay on the table and transferred it to the golden pot.

"Ah, how clever," Fred murmured to his brother, "but let's see if we can give these nice folks a wee bit of entertainment." George nodded and the two moved to the front of the crowd.

"I'd like a chance," Fred called out, waving two Muggle bills in the air. Hamlin, who had taken his blindfold off to wipe his face and take a sip of water, inclined his head.

Fred lay the bills down on the table, but did not remove his hand. In a loud voice he announced, "I'm going to double the wager, for I'll stump Hamlin in the first try."

A round of laughter greeted the twins. "Are ye loony?" "Look at the wee boys trying to be big men." "Don't go crying to yer Mum when you've lost all yer pocket change." Fred and George took in all the taunts, but their grins never faltered.

Hamlin himself chuckled, but agreed to the wager, for no one had ever been able to outwit him.

However, Fred wasn't finished. "I think it's only fair that since I am wagering such a large sum of money, that I be allowed to make one request."

Again, laughter filled the tent. After a moment, Hamlin held up his hand for silence. "I should say no," he boomed, "but I find you vastly amusing, boy, I agree to your terms; name them."

Fred winked at his brother before answering. "Your lovely assistant must be the one to choose my card."

Hamlin and his assistant froze, their smiles faltering a bit. The girl looked at the seated man, desperation in her features, but Hamlin-who quickly recovered-nodded encouragingly. She moved tentatively down the steps of the stage to stand next to Fred.

Several Muggles in the crowd placed wagers of their own with George. If Fred lost, they would be owing quite a bit of money to many people.

Fred chose to ignore the taunts being shouted at him by the Muggles; his attention now focused on the girl standing next to him. _She's nervous,_ Fred thought to himself, as he looked down at the pretty brunette. Her almond-shaped eyes were slightly rounded in fear and she was panting slightly. Glancing quickly at George, Fred knew his brother was thinking the same thing.

Fred removed his hand from the Muggle money he'd lain on the silver-skirted table. Hamlin angrily replaced his blindfold and thumped back into his chair.

Fred then nodded to the assistant; she reached out and placed her hand on the deck, attempting to draw a card from the top of the deck. Fred's own hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could turn it over. When she looked up at him questioningly, he shook his head and murmured, "That's not the one I want."

It took quite an effort to keep still as her skin prickled from the warmth of his breath upon her ear. She averted her eyes, but knew he was studying her...

The girl returned the card to the bottom of the pile and reached for the next one. Again, Fred shook his head. "Middle," he breathed into her hair. The girl shivered slightly, then pinched a card closest to the center. She showed it Fred, who nodded, then held it high for all to see: the two of hearts. Quickly, she placed the card face down next to the deck amid snickers from the onlookers.

"Make your guess, Great Hamlin," Fred called out. For several long minutes all was silent as Hamlin made thinking noises and rubbed at his temples in a great display-trying to decide which card was chosen. It seemed the entire room had held its breath-all but Fred and George, that is. Finally, Hamlin cleared his throat and called out confidently, "You've chosen... the seven of spades!"

Chaos then ensued; many were demanding a recount, or that Fred had cheated somehow. Hamlin, his face becoming purple with each passing second, had ripped off his blindfold and stomped down the steps to examine the card his assistant had chosen. He held it up to the light and turned it this way and that, huffing in anger at having been duped. He scowled at his assistant, who shrugged in bewilderment.

Reluctantly, the girl handed over the golden pot to Fred, as George collected their winnings from the side bets. Fred and George grinned like maniacs as a few in the crowd wished them well and clapped them on the shoulders.

The twins knew they had to get out of there-and fast, before something terrible happened to them or they lost their winnings. They bowed gracefully, thanked Hamlin and his lovely assistant, then ducked out of the tent, Disapparating as soon as the flap dropped.

The assistant, who was the niece of The Great Hamlin, was the only person who saw the two boys exit the tent amidst the shouting and outraged onlookers. She watched the tent flap drop, but it hooked on a pole and did not fall completely closed. The girl gasped as the twins were there one moment then gone the next-as if by magic.

Stunned, she pushed her way through to the opening and looked out, craning her head this way and that to catch some glimpse of the twins, but they were nowhere to be found. She went back through the angry throng-who still hadn't noticed the twins departure-to examine the deck of cards.

The brunette took up the deck and flipped it over in her hand. There, at the bottom of the pile-the first card she almost chose-lay the seven of spades.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 05**

"All of zeez foods are so fattening!" Fleur Delacour-Weasley announced, her upper lip curling in disgust. "I cannot eat zat! I must watch my figure!"

Ginny held a half-eaten funnel cake under her brother's new wife's nose. "Oh, come on now, Fleur, you can't tell me you can resist something that smells this delicious."

Fleur pushed Ginny's hand away, causing the fried dough to tip precariously close to the edge of the plate. Ginny righted her hand, then broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth. "Yum!" she sighed, chewing happily.

An unladylike snort emitted from Fleur. "If you think for a moment zat I will eat zat… zat... zat _nasty_ fried dough, you are meestaken!"

Bill laughed uproariously. "Nasty? Why, my dear Fleur, just twenty minutes ago you ate a whole funnel-" he was cut off when Fleur slapped a hand over his mouth; Bill growled playfully and nipped her hand lightly, causing Fleur to screech and snatch it away.

Ginny's eyes lit up with amusement. "_Oho!_ Zee truth comes out!" she cried, mocking Fleur's French accent. "You don't want to eat this because you've already had your fill!"

Fleur glared at Ginny, who walked away, joining Harry who was standing in a line waiting for his own funnel cake. She noticed several people staring at Fleur and couldn't help but wonder how Bill was able to stand the admiring glances or the outrageous declarations of love some men bestowed upon Fleur.

Ten minutes previous, a man - with an extremely unhappy wife in tow - presented a large stuffed bear to Fleur and told her she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Bill had laughed and replied, "Oh, this old thing?"

Fleur and the man were outraged, but the angry wife had laughed. When the man insisted that he won the bear especially for Fleur, Bill didn't seemed miffed, though the wife looked incensed; she walloped the husband with her large purse and carted him off, screaming at him that he'd claimed he'd won it for _her!_ Bill had to chase them down and give back the bear, which the woman no longer wanted!

Bill now carried huge brown bear for his wife. She treated the thing as though her husband himself had won it for her, including lavishing Bill with kisses every few moments. Fleur's silvery peals of laughter only served to draw the attention of every male Muggle-and some of the Muggle women, Ginny mused-in the vicinity.

Harry was handed his own funnel cake, then he and Ginny joined Fleur and Bill, who claimed he wanted some red meat. Ginny exchanged a worried glance with Harry; Bill had been bitten by a demented werewolf-man-Fenrir Greyback-weeks ago, and had recently begun craving red meat. He was currently taking a potion that a former Hogwarts Professor, Remus Lupin, also drank, though Bill was lucky and didn't completely transform into a werewolf during the full moon, as Professor Lupin was unfortunate enough to do.

Harry bent his head and whispered, "It'll be fine, Gin; the full moon's not for another week-and Bill took his potion at dinner."

Ginny nodded, feeling a bit relieved. _If Fleur and Harry don't appear to be worried,_ she chided herself, watching her brother trot off to the vendor selling hamburgers, _then I shouldn't be._

She glanced at Harry, who was absently munching on his food._He seems to be miles away,_ Ginny thought sadly. She wondered if there was something she could do or say to bring Harry around?

_Maybe he believes I'm still angry at him,_ Ginny bit her lip thoughtfully. In a way, she was, but Ginny didn't want to ruin this nice evening by sulking.

She turned to Harry and coughed. When he glanced at her, she took the opportunity to speak to him. "Harry, would you like to go on a ride?"

Harry's green eyes now fully focused on Ginny and she felt her knees go weak. It hadn't been long ago when those eyes looked upon Ginny with happiness and love, but now...

"I don't know, Ginny; I just ate and..." Harry sounded annoyed.

"Oh." Ginny tried not to sound disappointed, but it was difficult.

Harry sighed heavily, then dropped his empty paper plate into a nearby refuse bin. "All right. But you do realize that we may not find anything that won't fling us about or spin in circles?"

That wasn't leaving many options for Ginny, but she was desperate to spend some time alone with Harry. "Oh. Well, let's look anyw-"

A commotion at the hamburger stand interrupted Ginny; she and Harry looked over to see Bill arguing with the vendor, asking for a very rare patty, but-as the vendor was trying to point out-it was against the health code to serve such a thing.

"I could get in a lot of trouble for serving an undercooked patty," the young man explained in a sorrowful tone. "If you got sick..."

Bill shook his head. "But I won't, I promise you. I happen to _like_ rare meat and have been eating it quite often as of late; nothing horrid has happened!"

"Sir," the young man sighed, "I cannot oblige you; I could have my vending license revoked!" He was growing nervous; they were drawing stares!

It was then that Fleur stepped in; she smiled brightly at the vendor, whipped her white-blonde hair over her shoulder, and laid a slim hand on Bill's shoulder. "My goodness, Bill," she chided her husband, "Zees man says no, so let's not bother 'im any more. Come, my darling."

She steered Bill away from the stall. "Many apologies, sir," Fleur called sweetly from over her shoulder. "I 'ope you'll forgive us."

The young man, now tongue-tied in Fleur's presence, merely nodded.

"Fleur," Bill interjected sourly as they moved further away, "I still want some red meat!"

"Hush!" Fleur scolded. "You shall have zat red meat you crave in a moment." At this, Fleur took out her wand and-holding it between herself and Bill-murmured "_Accio 'amburgers'_".

A moment later, Ginny spied three patties zooming through the air above everyone's heads. Since it was dark, the patties looked like round bats flying in the air, so no one took notice - no one but Harry, Ginny, Fleur, and Bill, that is.

"You weren't supposed to use your wand!" Bill scolded Fleur, after wolfing down the three raw hamburger patties. "Besides, isn't that stealing?"

"Nonsense," Fleur huffed. "When I retrieved you, I left some money on ze counter."

Ginny laughed; Fleur might appear to be vain and selfish, but even the youngest Weasley could see that Fleur cared deeply about Bill - enough to risk using her wand around Muggles.

She then nudged Harry, indicating Fleur and Bill should have some time alone; Harry nodded, following Ginny away from her brother and his wife as they shared a semi-private moment, kissing passionately under the blinking lights of the frozen custard stall.

Harry and Ginny glanced at one another then hastily looked away. As they moved down the lane towards the oblivious Muggles crowding the rides, each thought the same thing: _If only that were us..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 06**

"Are you sure this thing is safe?" Ron asked, looking up at the ride he and Hermione stood waiting for. It towered over them, like a giant rainbow-colored mushroom with many chains hanging down from under the cap; there were several yellow and green molded plastic chairs attached to the chains, each with its own bar and some sort of harness contraption.

"Yes, Ronald," Hermione sighed in exasperation. "How many times must I tell you? These rides are well-maintained; the ride operators check them for imperfections every day. If anything were wrong, they would not be allowed to run it. On the other hand, If they did-and something happened-they could have real trouble with authorities on their hands."

"So, Muggles have their own version of Dementors?" Ron asked, confused.

"Muggles employ worse devices, actually," Hermione replied with a frown.

"This looks like one of them," Ron grumbled as he and Hermione shuffled forward, inching their way closer to the front of the queue. He watched in awe as Muggles ahead of them willingly allowed themselves to be strapped into the chairs and spun in a circle at dizzying speeds.

_Muggles call _this _entertaining?_ Ron wondered bewilderingly. _Give me broomstick and a Quidditch game any day-anything but this!_

He tried not to panic, but he needed to be honest with himself-he was afraid. Ron Weasley was worried that spinning in a circle for too long would cause his stomach to do flip-flops and would result in embarrassment for him. He tried to remember how long ago he had eaten and wondered if the Muggles would be able to figure out what it was if he did indeed spew everywhere.

"Look Hermione," Ron began hesitantly, tugging on the frizzy-haired girl's sleeve, "I'm not so sure about this."

Hermione sighed again. "Honestly, Ron, it's perfectly safe."

"I don't care," Ron grunted stubbornly.

"Fine." Hermione's chin jutted out and she crossed her arms. "Did you want to step out of the queue?"

Ron struggled to reply for several moments, worried he'd look even weaker to Hermione, though both inched forward as the rest of the Muggles did whilst waiting for their turn.

Hermione was silently counting to one hundred, hoping that the exercise would help her calm down. She couldn't understand how someone who loved the highly unpredictable game of Quidditch was a bundle of nerves when faced with a Muggle amusement ride.

But Hermione knew she wasn't upset with Ron based solely on that; something hadn't been right between the two of them since earlier this evening.

_Have I pushed him too far?_ Hermione wondered, sneaking a glance at Ron, who was staring up at the ride, watching it spin the Muggles round and round; he was a shade of green Hermione hadn't seen before. _Was I too forward?_

She tried to tell herself that dealing with Ron was like playing a game of chess; obviously she'd have to make the first move. Unfortunately for Hermione, Ron didn't appear interested in playing this particular version of his favorite game.

_How much longer must I wait for him to notice me-and how I feel about him?_ she wondered.

"Hermione?" Ron was tugging on her sleeve again; she looked up at him and saw that he really didn't look well.

"Oh, Ron!" Hermione cried snapping back to attention. "I'm so sorry," she continued, grasping his arm and ducking under the rope, "let's get you away from here."

"I feel like a git," Ron muttered, once they were a safe distance from the ride. His color was returning to normal, which made Hermione sigh in relief. "They were laughing at me, weren't they?"

Hermione thought of the snickers and comments from the Muggles and merely shrugged. "It doesn't matter now; they don't really know you-and you'll not see any of them again."

"True," Ron nodded in agreement. "But I still feel stupid."

Hermione laid a reassuring hand on Ron's arm, smiling sympathetically as she did so. "Is there something else you'd like to do?"

Perhaps she didn't realize what she was implying when she asked that question, but an image of him snogging Hermione sprang to mind anyway. This didn't seem to be an appropriate place to experience a first kiss with Hermione, however, as Ron noted they were only feet away from a refuse bin.

Ron looked around; he knew Hermione wanted to try at least one Muggle amusement ride, but to Ron, they all looked the same-each resulting in doing nothing but turning in a circle. _And where's the fun in that?_ he wondered once again.

He cleared his throat. "Since I'm not, er, familiar with these sorts of events," he grinned sheepishly, "you should choose." When Hermione's face it up with delight, he added hastily, "Er, no spinning rides, though."

Hermione agreed and linked her arm through Ron's. The pair headed back to the rides, but were careful to steer clear of the Ferris Wheel, the Swings, and the Carousel.

They had just made their way past the smaller children's rides when Hermione caught sight of Fred and George. The pair were huddled together behind some benches. She stopped in her tracks, causing Ron to bump into her.

"Wotcher, Hermione!" he cried. When she didn't reply, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Over there," Hermione murmured, her chin raised in curiosity. Their heads bent over a golden pot, the twins seemed oblivious to anyone around them. "What's going on with those two?"

"Dunno," Ron shrugged, taking in the scene before him. "My guess is they had a go at one of the rides and are now paying for it."

Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she decided that perhaps Ron was correct; maybe Fred and George suffered the same phobia as their younger brother?

_Don't count on it,_ her inner voice whispered. _This is Fred and George; never underestimate those two._

"I'm not dealing with that now," Hermione muttered aloud. She wanted to spend some time alone with Ron, and if she had to deal with those two troublemakers, then her evening would be ruined.

"What's that?" Ron asked, leaning close.

Hermione shook her head. "It's nothing. Let's go over there." She pointed to a large sign that read 'Haunted House'.

Ron snorted, "I'll wager that place has nothing on the Shrieking Shack."

It was true; the most haunted place in all of England was reputed to be the Shrieking Shack, a rickety house just outside the wizarding town of Hogsmeade. It creaked, groaned, and spooked the general magical community. Once, long ago, people swore there were ghosts or demons in the dwelling, for they could hear blood-curdling screams emanating from the place.

Ron and Hermione now knew better; many of the tales were put in place to protect Professor Lupin, who used the dilapidated home to transform into a werewolf when he attended Hogwarts years ago. However, those tales still lingered and many stayed away out of fear they would be cursed-or worse.

"Shall we give it a go?" Ron asked. "I'm _dying_ to know what the Muggles see as scary."

"You can be certain you won't see any mountain trolls, dragons, three-headed dogs, or giant man-eating spiders in there," Hermione chuckled.

Ron shivered in revulsion. "Let's not mention the spiders!" It was well-known amongst his close friends that Ron had an aversion to any and all eight-legged creatures.

A pair of teenage girls screamed with fright when a skeleton popped out of a coffin near the front door. "Oh, honestly!" Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "Anyone can see that the skeleton is made of plastic and coated with paint and gauze to look decomposed!"

Ron guffawed loudly, but followed Hermione as she stepped forward and handed a few tickets to the pimply-faced boy seated near the front door.

"Welcome to The Haunted House," he droned in a bored tone, dropping the tickets into a wooden box. "No lighters, cigarettes, or flash photography please. Have a boo-tiful evening."

Ron made a face. "No ciga-_what?_"; he was thoroughly confused.

Hermione pulled Ron forward. "I'll explain later; let's go in, shall we?" she muttered through clenched teeth. For someone whose father liked all things Muggle, Ron certainly didn't have a clue!

The first room they ventured into was pretty bland, as if lulling the unsuspecting visitor into a false sense of security. It appeared as if it had been abandoned ages ago; manufactured cobwebs hung from the low ceiling, wall sconces, and some of the covered furnishings. A broken piano, worn carpets, a coating of dust, and tinned ghost sounds completed the scene.

"Looks like my aunt's house," Ron commented airily as the pair took in their surroundings, "minus the cat piss smell, I mean. The rugs would be an improvement, though!"

Three blonde girls, who'd come in behind them, giggled incessantly at Ron's comment, smiling coyly, and batting their eyes at him.

Ron grinned wolfishly in return, but the trio moved on, two of them winking as they passed by. A moment later, they disappeared through the wide, ebony double doors at the far end of the room.

At Ron's elated sigh, Hermione elbowed him the chest. "Snap out of it," she said crossly. _Ron gets spooked when _I _try to flirt with him,_ she thought moodily, _but when it comes to other girls... he has nary a problem!_

Boys. She just couldn't understand them.


End file.
